I was always taught at school that sport was wonderful for one’s health, matured the mind and taught one to play fair. Then I heard a senior boy saying to his rugby team, ‘I want you to come off that field with blood on your shirt and I don’t want it to be yours.’ Fair? Mature?
I realised that sport is not about the game but about winning the game and how to train the mind and body to win. It is about pitting yourself against another person or group and trying to outwit and outplay them by having superior strength, speed or luck. If it wasn’t then no accidental play or own goal would ever be allowed because the benefiting team or individual would waver it. Advantage is always taken, training is always pretty intense, concentration is maximised because these traits are the traits of winners.
And you only have to listen to fans to get an idea of what winning means. It is more than the game; it the shining name, the medals and accolades,the cups, the whole charade of feeling good about oneself.
The hardest game of all we play against ourselves. A striving of nature and ethics, pitting ourselves against circumstances and taking the loses not with a smile or a joke, but with the determination to continue. There are no half times in life, no time-outs and no changing ends and no one gets to jump the net at the final ball.
Sport doesn’t train you for life, it is a poor reflection of nature. It doesn’t espouse much intellect and is saturated with chauvinism.
And all that negativity disappears when you play with your friends for the joy of being with friends.